H2OVanoss: Short Passages
by delminions
Summary: Here I shall dump all the short H2OVanoss passages that I consider to be too short to qualify as a proper one-shot. Usually these come whenever I'm too tired/busy/? to actually work on a proper one-shot, but still have ideas to write about anyway. Might be NSFW for some stories, but enjoy!
1. Who's Your Best Friend?

"Who's your best friend?"

That had always been the question, ever since they were all little children. The children would then all scramble to their best buddies and point at them, almost in a childishly possessive fashion, and declare that that was their best friend.

The ritual had been started by none other than their mothers, who were more than pleased to watch as each pair of children announced their friendship fervently. Brian and Brock would go arm-in-arm, pointing at each other with gleeful smiles on their faces whenever the question was asked. Tyler and Craig would immediately try to outdo them, announcing louder than Brian and Brock that _they_ were each other's best friend. David and Lui would look at each other for a second, before quietly pointing at each other, a silent but strong declaration of their friendship. Marcel, Scott and Anthony would have a yelling match in the background about who was whose best friend, before declaring that the three of them were all best friends, and there wasn't a singular 'best friend' in their friendship.

Jonathan would, however, simply ask one question.

"Aren't we all each other's best friends?"

This question would cause all the commotion to cease, and everyone would slowly nod in agreement, one after the other, declaring that they were all best friends, regardless of who they preferred to be around in the group.

All the while whilst that happened, Evan and Luke would glare at each other darkly, ready to snap at each other and insist that they were Jonathan's best friend.

The ritual went beyond their childhood. Even when Brock and Evan began to bulk up from their intense physical training and even when Tyler began to shoot up like a weed, towering over his closest buddy and almost lifting Craig off his feet whenever they took each other arm-in-arm, even when David and Lui grew so differently, one tall and one small, their skin like night and day, and even when little hairs began to sprout on Marcel, Scott and Anthony's faces, the ritual continued –

"Who's your best friend?"

And the question would send the boys into a flurry, eager to declare their best friends to the world, only to be interrupted by Jonathan's innocent little question.

"Aren't we all each other's best friends?"

And the cycle would repeat itself, with the boys declaring their friendship to their best friends, and then to each other as a group whilst Evan and Luke glared sullenly at each other, fighting a silent war behind everyone's backs and eager to claim their positions as Jonathan's best friend.

But just once, just once in their adult lives, at their mothers' dinner party when the question was once again asked and the cycle repeated itself, an additional question was asked, this time directed at Evan and Luke –

"What about you two? All these years we've only ever heard from the rest of the boys. David and Lui, Marcel, Scott, and Anthony, Tyler and Craig, Brock and Brian, they all are each other's best friends – not to say that all of you aren't great friends with each other, like Jonathan says so. But we've never heard from you both. Who're _your_ best friends?"

The pair glared at each other, dark eyes staring daggers into each other. The room stilled around them, each and every individual becoming steadily aware of the tension that was growing between the two men. Slowly, silently, both raised their arms, index fingers extended and pointing at the dark-haired man with the pale skin and blue eyes.

"Ah, just like Marcel and Scott and Anthony, I guess!" One mother burst out in an unconvincing attempt to try and defuse the tension. "A trio like them."

Her voice grew small and died out towards the end, almost as though she barely believed what she said herself. The boys simply looked at each other silently, then at Jonathan, as though they knew that it was barely the case. The silence was first broken by Luke.

"We're not a trio," he grumbled, eyes still glued on Evan. " _I'm_ Jonathan's best friend."

"Oh yeah?" Evan challenged, his eyes narrowing. "Prove it."

"I've known him way before you did!" Luke growled. "Our families are like one big family, and we moved here together. He's practically my brother. You? He only met you when he got here."

"Right. Except I know him really well, and I can make him laugh harder than when he's with you."

"Don't you fucking dare –"

A soft, uneasy cough resounded from the crowd of ladies in the room, and Luke paused, before starting again.

"Don't you _dare_ insinuate that I can't do the same as you can. You don't even know how Jonathan's like when he's with me."

"Yeah I do. He laughs but not _that_ hard. Have you ever heard him laugh so hard that he goes breathless and he can barely talk? Have you ever heard him laugh so hard he starts wheezing? Have you ever heard him laugh _just because_ you were laughing?"

"He doesn't even call you by your real name." Luke pushed further, a menacing tone seeping into his voice. " _You_ don't even call _him_ by _his_ real name. You guys just use damn nicknames for each other. Have you ever heard him address you as _Evan_?"

"Oh yes I have, Luke, I have… _many, many times_."

"But only back then when we first met. How many times does he call you by your real name now? One for every ten times he calls you _Vanoss_? And you still don't call him by his real name."

"Screw you." Evan began to holler. "You probably don't even know why he likes teddy bears, do you?"

"So what if I don't? You don't even know why he likes Jason Voorhees and all those horror movies!"

"Guys, shut up!"

Every pair of eyes turned towards Jonathan, who, after committing himself to a distressed silence the whole time, had spoken up, voicing his opinion with a troubled half-scream. His brows upturned and his eyes glimmering slightly in the dim light, he stood up abruptly and sped out of the room, the blue of his jacket flashing through the doorway in mere seconds, leaving the room in an awkward silence. Evan and Luke stared after him, jaw open, but it was Luke that reacted first, following quickly after the speckle of blue.

Outside in the night, Jonathan was staring up in the dark sky. The stars seemed blurrier that night – or perhaps it was because of the tears in his eyes. Listening to Evan and Luke fight had taken a huge toll on him, and he was caught in the middle. He had firmly taken the stance that he considered everybody in the group best friends for that very reason – because he loved everyone equally, albeit in very different ways.

"Johnny?" Luke's voice called out from behind him, gruff and hollow. "Look, I'm sorry. We're sorry. Come back in, please?"

"Luke… you don't understand. I _do_ love you, you're the most wonderful big brother I've ever had. I love everyone here tonight as well, but for different reasons. Like how I love Marcel because he's a great friend, and Tyler because – although he's put me at some of my lowest times - he's put me at a lot more of my greatest times. But you and Evan… I can't choose, Luke. You're my brother and he's my…"

"Your soulmate," Luke finished for him bitterly. "I know. I'm not asking you to choose between me and him, Jonathan. It's just… it sucks that _I_ can't compare to him, and I've known you my whole life. And he just comes along and sweeps you off your feet and you come to me telling me you think you're in love with him. Makes me feel like I've lost to him, and I'm not ready to admit that."

"Luke… you didn't lose to him. You'll always be my awesome big brother and I'll always love you like that. But I can't… I can't deny that I love Evan too. In a very different way from the way I love you. He's like a fire in my head and in my heart. He's so much and… I'm in love with him."

Luke sighed, and Jonathan heard a slight rustling behind him.

"You heard that, asshole? You've won." Luke called out to someone behind him. "I'm going back in first, Johnny. Don't make out for too long or I'll finish all the sandwiches."

Jonathan spun around quickly in alarm, only to see Luke's frame disappear back into the house behind the dark-haired man that he had grown to love in the long time that they had spent together. His eyes were sparkling hopefully, affectionately. He walked slowly, painfully slowly towards Jonathan, and as they closed in on each other, he asked in a low voice –

"Who's your best friend?"

Not a single word escaped Jonathan's lips, for just as he was about to answer and protest that everybody was, Evan kissed him full on the lips, taking Jonathan tightly into his arms. _Of course it isn't me_ , he thought. _It's everybody._

 _I'm just one of his best friends, the one that he's in love with_.


	2. Friends with Benefits

"Evan, stop… I'm … I'm – ahhh…"

With a shout, Evan pushed further into Jonathan's quivering body, sending the man into a state where even moans failed him. Release was, as always, intense, and as Evan thrust into him a final time that night, Jonathan broke under the pressure, his knees giving way as strings of silk spewed from his straining member, just as Evan did the same into a rubber inside him. As the shaking and the fireworks in their heads subsided, the two men collapsed onto each other with a small groan and a gasp.

Evan snaked his arms around Jonathan's waist, holding his still-quivering body close as they recovered from their orgasmic joy. Gently, he lay his head against Jonathan's back and murmured, "Well fucked."

"Well fucked to you too," Jonathan mumbled into a pillow, his voice muffled. Slowly, he pushed against Evan's weight.

"Hmm?" Evan hummed almost sleepily.

"We need to go soon, we're going to be late," Jonathan whispered. "They're waiting for us…"

"Aw," Evan practically whined, "Can't we just laze around a little bit more? It's not like we _have_ to go…"

"We promised, Evan, we can't bail out at the last minute just because you want to _cuddle_." Jonathan pointed out.

"I didn't want to –" Evan began, and then promptly gave up with an exasperated sigh. Slowly and reluctantly, he lifted his body off Jonathan's, slinking away from his roommate against his own will.

"I wasn't going to cuddle." Evan said pointedly as he slipped off into the bathroom to wash up. "Hurry up and clean up yourself."

For the umpteenth time in their time together as roommates, the warmth that they shared mere moments ago quickly dissolved into a much cooler, much colder atmosphere as they went about their lives as if nothing had happened. They proceeded with their routine as though they had not spent the past half an hour or so stuck to each other, skin on skin, and lips against each other's whilst they worked each other into a heated sweat. This was normal, perfectly normal, they told themselves and each other – they were just friends, friends with benefits.

"Oh, there they are," Brock commented as the duo slipped into the bar. "Our little couple."

"We're not a couple," Evan replied. "We're just friends. I'll go get drinks – the usual?"

"The usual," Jonathan nodded, eyes trailing after Evan's frame as he walked off towards the bar.

"Not a couple. Right." Luke rolled his eyes as he took a sip from his drink. "You guys are not a couple, just like how the sun doesn't rise in the morning."

"Fuck off, you guys," Jonathan shot a menacing glare across the group. "We're just friends and you guys know it."

"Come off it." Brock said. "You guys do just about everything couples would do together – just except be a proper couple. You guys live together, eat together, spend time together, and sweet-talk each other –"

"– Fuck each other – "Luke added offhandedly, causing Brock to frown slightly.

"Yeah, that too. You guys do everything that couples do, except _be_ a couple." Brock finished.

"How the fuck did you guys…?"

"God, we'd be idiots if we haven't already figured out that part." Luke explained, rolling his eyes. "Remember that time we had a party at your place? You guys think we wouldn't notice, but you guys slipped away and suddenly the music – loud as it was – had some extra sounds added to it. _And_ you guys suddenly reappeared looking like you both fucked, just like today and just about every other time you guys decided to have a quick one before coming to see us."

A burning hot red rushed into Jonathan's cheeks. The thought that their friends knew of the times he and Evan decided to sneak off to satisfy themselves embarrassed him beyond belief, and the thought that their friends knew of their arrangements stole every single word, every single retort that he had in him away from him. All he could do was to stare at his friends gathered around him with his mouth slightly open, speechless.

"Close your mouth, you look like an idiot," Evan chided as he returned with their drinks. "What're you guys up to? Still onto that couple bullshit? Because that's not true."

"Jesus Christ." Luke sighed in exasperation. "Okay, sure, you guys are just friends. Just call me when that changes."

"Why're you guys so insistent that we're together? God, we're just friends." Evan reasoned.

"Friends that fuck. And then cuddle after that."

"We don't cuddle. And that's called friends with benefits, by the way, which is what we are. There isn't a rule that says that can't happen. We just happened to both be having problems getting people at the moment. It's a nice arrangement." Evan replied defensively, heat rising within him as he spoke.

"Whoah, there's no need to get angry, Evan. We're just teasing, okay?" Brock cut in between the two men, eager to diffuse the tension. With a swift look at Luke and a slight cocking of his head, he motioned for Luke to follow him. The two men stood and sidled off into another end of the bar, hushed voices rushing out of their lips as they walked away from Evan and Jonathan.

"Sorry about that." Evan spoke, breaking the silence that had grown. "I didn't mean to get angry."

Jonathan turned his head slightly and stared at Evan full in the face, taking in every bit of his handsome features under the burst of colorful lights in the bar. For a short moment, he was bewitched, as he always was whenever he looked at his roommate. It took him a second to shake himself out of his daze, and blinking furiously, he stammered –

"I-It's okay. I – uh – I mean… you had to correct them. They were wrong, anyway. We're – we're just… just friends, right?"

Evan paused for a short moment, looking as if all the breath had been drawn from his lungs, and he looked away. Quietly, he answered Jonathan with the same answer he had repeated religiously again and again each time Jonathan had asked him that very same question.

"Yeah, we are. We're just friends."

* * *

"Nngh…" Jonathan groaned, his body convulsing under his partner's. "Evan... I…"

"Sshh," Evan shushed softly, placing a gentle kiss on Jonathan's shoulder blade. "Don't you love this? Don't you like me fucking you until you cum?"

Evan's soft whispers coaxed another pleading, helpless moan out of Jonathan's lips as the heat and the pleasure within him hiked up another couple of degrees. Deep within him, he felt his insides lurch pleasurably as Evan pushed up against him, hitting his sweet little spot. Slowly, Jonathan felt as if he was about to lose grip on reality and his sanity altogether, as his head swam and stirred underneath the sexual haze. His legs trembled, knees threatening to buckle at the intense pressure of it all.

"E-Evan…" he cried out loud, voice reverberating throughout the room. His vision was blurry and he could barely focus – everything seemed to slip away the first moment he looked at it. Nothing seemed to be solid, and with a harsh gasp, he felt his legs give way beneath him, and his body colliding with a pillow. It was too much, too great for him.

The sharp change in position seemed to draw Evan in further, as the man began to thrust faster and harder into his partner, the simmering desire in him set ablaze.

"You…" Evan panted softly, the strain becoming increasingly evident in his voice. "You're so…"

 _So what?_ A little voice chimed in Jonathan's head through the thick fog that had clouded his thoughts. _So what, Evan, so what?_

"Jonathan…" Evan began again, his palms gently easing Jonathan's body downwards. Jonathan obliged all too willingly, holding the pillow closer to his chest as he tried his best to push his ass towards Evan in a weak attempt at a tease. The attempt, however, did not go unnoticed by Evan, and he quickly responded by withdrawing from Jonathan abruptly.

"Evan…" Jonathan whined almost pathetically. "Please… put it back in… fuck me…"

"Why?" Evan breathed, his finger tracing Jonathan's eager pucker. "Hungry for more…?"

With his head buried deep in the pillow to conceal the heavy blush that had surfaced on his cheeks, Jonathan murmured out an affirmation.

"Yes…oh god… please, Evan… fuck me…"

Evan smirked, and eased himself back into Jonathan.

"God, you're tight…" He groaned, rolling his hips once more and thrusting roughly into Jonathan. Jonathan's moans soon drowned out the hoarse grunts that came from Evan's lips, as the man went deeper and deeper, faster and faster, his hard, hot member thrusting right over his sweet, hot spot –

"Ev-Evan!" Jonathan called out, his erection weeping and clear liquid seeping out from the slit into the sheets. His member was twitching painfully, begging for the release that Jonathan was only very slowly nearing.

"I'm close, Jonathan, I'm so fucking close." Evan whispered.

"Me… too…" Jonathan breathed, barely thinking. All he could focus on was how _hard_ Evan was, how _big_ he was, how _hard_ he was _fucking him_ –

"Ohh – oh- oh-god -!" Jonathan wailed, his ass pulsing and his manhood twitching furiously as he came, fluids pooling onto the sheets underneath him. With a hoarse, low groan, Evan soon followed after, and his muscular frame descended upon Jonathan's, holding him tight as he exploded inside of him.

For a moment, a strange warmth filled Jonathan. He _liked_ being held by Evan– _why hadn't I realized how nice it was before_? He _liked_ everything that he did with Evan. It was always good and it was always nice. It was always so…

"Jonathan…" Evan murmured sleepily. "I…"

And suddenly, Jonathan knew what the feeling was, and he knew what he wanted to hear, after all the silences that they had spent together after affirming their _friendship_.

 _Say it, please. Say "I love you"._

But a soft snore had risen from Evan as the man slept comfortably with his cheek against Jonathan's back.

* * *

"I'm going crazy, Luke." Jonathan whined to his best friend over the phone, his eyes cautiously darting towards the bathroom, checking quickly for Evan's presence. "You guys… weren't all wrong. I think… I think I'm in love, Luke."

Luke chuckled heartily. "About time you realized it. God, the way you guys look at each other… absolutely nauseating."

"But I don't know how he feels about me, Luke. God, he might just still see us as _just friends_. It's what we agreed on when all this started…"

"How the fuck did you two get into this shit anyway?"

Jonathan sighed. "Remember when I broke up with Chris, and he broke up with that girl Sam? Well… I was drunk, he was drunk… Things got a little… too much…"

"I don't wanna hear about how you guys fucked the first time, Jonathan." Luke menaced.

"Alright, alright… Uh… and then… we decided it was nice to just… have a fuck buddy, y'know. No romance, no strings attached."

"Oh. I see."

"See what?"

"You've been too chicken shit to admit to yourself how you really feel after all that Chris bullshit, much less be able to tell him how you feel. That's just great."

Silence came from Jonathan's end.

"Jonathan?" Luke called out.

"Hey, uh… Luke?" Evan's voice came tumbling out from the other end of the line. "Could you call back later? Jonathan and I have some stuff to settle."

Abruptly, the call ended.

Jonathan lay with his back flat against the bed as Evan gently settled down on him, his body closer than it ever had been.

"Evan – what…?"

"You lied to me." Evan said simply, a dark look of seriousness growing upon his all-too handsome features.

"What're you talking about?"

"You said we were just friends."

"Weren't we?"

"But you love me." Evan said simply, not looking directly at Jonathan any longer. Jonathan could swear he saw a tinge of red gather in his cheeks as he spoke the words, and he, too, felt the blood pool in his cheeks.

"I… I do." He admitted, as if he was saying something incredibly stupid. "I…"

"Don't say anything." Evan interrupted. Quickly, Evan lowered himself onto Jonathan and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Evan…"

"Don't." Evan silenced him. "I love you, too. I want to hold you all the time. I want to kiss you all the time. God, just... just think about how many times we did it in the past week."

"That doesn't prove anything."

"That's not my point, Jonathan. I… It's not just sex anymore. More and more… I feel like we're _making love_ , not just… _fucking_. Shit, we keep screaming each other's names and then pretending like nothing happened after that… that fucking hurts, you know? I just want to hold you forever. I want to share my whole life with you, that's how I've grown to feel about you. I don't want to pretend like nothing's happened after all that we've done."

There was an incredible sadness in Evan's eyes, and for a second, a glint passed, as if tears had gathered momentarily in the deep, warm brown. Slowly, Jonathan reached up towards Evan's face and caressed his cheek tenderly.

"Evan…?" He softly whispered, pressing his lips to Evan's skin. "We're friends, right? Friends with…"

He paused, and giggled, kissing Evan gently and passionately with all of the emotions in his heart.

"Fuck that. I love you, Evan Fong. My _lover_."


	3. Wild Flower

It was agonizing. The pain of it all was excruciating, and Evan could feel it in his blood, eating away at him, destroying him from within.

It was such a painful sight, so heart-wrenching and so tormenting that he could not look any longer. He turned away from the person he loved (and still did) once and for all, unable to bear the burden. What he saw in the pool of blood was a broken bird, a rose with all its petals shed and thrown forcefully and brutally into the fires. The pieces and fragments of what was once a flower never drifted gracefully and was never scattered into the wind – it simply burnt up into ash in the fires of pain and hatred.

He was a flower from the start – a delicate, gentle flower, of such a genteel nature and unusually refined appearances. At their first meeting, he was so polite and so graceful that it shocked Evan. He had always thought of him as the man who had a crazy laugh, the man who was crazy enough to laugh at burning corpses and murderous acts. His character had always been the psychopathic killer, the insane clown, the _delirious_ one. It was what everybody liked about him – his sheer insanity that was ridiculous to the point of comedy. It was that aspect of him that he had enjoyed exaggerating and portraying so much that so many thought it was real – even though everybody in the group knew it was all an act. Still – watching the man that he had always pictured as a foul-mouthed and crazed fool act with such gentility and courtesy caught Evan off guard and sent him reeling in _his_ direction, drawing them closer and closer.

But even then, he was a flower, a wonderful flower. He _was_ insane at times, and he _was_ as comically crazy as he portrayed himself to be at times. At the same time, he was soft, and he was beautiful. From the same mouth that had cussed numerous times, came a slew of adorable sounds and cheesy phrases that he had tried to use to no fruition. From the same mouth that had little more to say other than screams of amused horror and simple 'fuck you's came possibly the cutest and the most romantic-sounding speeches that he swore he had ever heard. From the very person that had pretended that he was a crazed clown and a killer for years and adopted it as his persona, came possibly the sweetest and kindest actions and the most generous gifts. The dichotomy that came with this flower was absolutely stunning and wonderful.

He was a flower, a wild one at that. When they finally met for the very first time, both speechless at first from the experience and the awkwardness, it was apparent that whilst he was shy and delicate, there was a wildness that reflected his background. It was in his nature and it was in his blood, an inherent part of him that he could not possibly shake off – but it was perfectly all right. _He isn't perfect_ , _nobody can be_ , he told himself. Countless times he had responded to his surroundings with such thoughtless instinct that it was absolutely silly – yet he had to allow the man that he loved to be wild, to act insane, to be ferociously primal and act upon his instinct at times. _It's love_ , he told himself, _I'll let him be_. The wildness of the man showed up even more ferociously in bed – the passionate, heated moments that they had eventually gotten to share together were completely uncontrollable and completely mind-blowing that almost nothing could top the experience.

And everything that had been said about wild flowers – they were all right. _Never pick wild flowers_ , they had emphasized, and it was that advice that had always been disregarded. Evan allowed him to be wild, to be instinctive, to be emotional and to be physical, but he had made a fatal error – he picked the wild flower. He had taken him as his own, and he had sought to conquer the man's favor. He had sought his love, and when offered to him, took it so eagerly and so enthusiastically he had failed to consider the consequences of his own actions. He had picked a wild flower. He wasn't able to leave the wild flower alone in its place, and he had picked it and taken him for his own. He decided that he wasn't able to admire the wild flower from a distance, and that he couldn't bear not having the wild flower in his possession. And so Evan took Jonathan into his arms, into his bed, and eventually away from the place that he had grown up in, away from the place he had called home.

And he hated himself for that.

The first months were wonderful. They settled into their new place together, spent every waking moment together – making love to each other in the morning, enjoying a delicious breakfast made with his insane love together, playing games with each other throughout the day, sneaking up on each other and planting kisses throughout the day, going out hand-in-hand for meals and coming back all giggly and happy because they had seen something funny occur whilst they were out. When night fell, they would share a steaming hot shower with each other – an event that usually led to more passionate lovemaking in the large soft bed that they shared together, before Evan embraced him tightly, both of them content and ready to drift off into a deep slumber in each other's arms.

It was a beautiful time, and many lovely moments had been shared between them. It was all so tender and all so perfect – every single time when Evan would enter his lover, pushing himself deeper and deeper into his lover's body, feeling the musculature and the insides of his wet little pucker, there would be that soft little pleading whine that was followed up with a groan of absolute satisfaction that came from his lover's slightly parted lips. Jonathan's eyes – once closed – would soon flutter open, a flame now set alight within him, and with the ferocity of a lion, push Evan down onto the bed. Jonathan would be the one to hold the reins, to drive Evan crazy with his perfect little hole. Jonathan would be the one to ride Evan and himself to their highs, and he would be the one to tighten around Evan, clasping his member as his insides pulsed, and he would be the one to make Evan empty himself into him, spilling every drop of his seed just as he spilled his own onto Evan's bare body. He would be the one to bend down onto Evan and kiss him tenderly, and all Evan had to do was to say –

"I love you."

The beauty of it all – even the three magical words that Evan had repeated constantly – shifted as time passed. The wild flower was beginning to wilt, and he could see that. He had tried his best and showered him with all the love that he could possibly summon, and he had tried to make it all last. He had feared that it would happen, that the wild flower would wilt regardless of all the care that he had tried to take of it, but the wonder and the happiness that came with having Jonathan by his side clouded his senses, bit by bit, until he could no longer remember what he was even worried about. It wasn't long before this became carelessness, and with carelessness came loss.

It soon became obvious that simply living and re-living their honeymoon period wasn't quite going to cut it. They had lives to attend to, work to do. Evan had fans to please as well as corporates to appease, and Jonathan had his own troubles to deal with. They had to work – and they began to work, taking more and more time off each other as they tried to tend to all these aspects of their lives. They were different people, after all, and they had to do some things independently. It made perfect sense, right to the very end. After all, they had their mornings and their nights together – whatever happened in between was the only thing that changed, from afternoons of couple time to responsibilities and work.

But there was more to Evan's life that just all that. As time passed, even more responsibilities caught up to him. He had his own friends to deal with, and he had a company full of colleagues waiting for him and his ideas. And so his time with Jonathan became much less – from longer evenings away from his lover to late night outings that left Jonathan alone at home until the sun began to shine again. He hated how he had to promise time and again that he would return earlier the next day, and he hated how he had to come home to Jonathan sleeping in Evan's spot on the bed, holding Evan's pillow tightly as if it were his only possession in the whole world. He hated watching the tears escape his lover's face as Jonathan held Evan's pillow closer to his face, a pained attempt to hide his pain from the world. He hated seeing Jonathan miserable. After all, he was just a delicate, wonderful wild flower.

The misery only became worse over time. Jonathan spent more and more time alone, and Evan chided himself every time he came back home to Jonathan simply curled up on the couch, attempting to while away his time.

"Go take a walk or something, or do some shopping or go watch a movie," he told him. "Doing something will make you feel better, sweetie."

"I've seen everything." Jonathan replied miserably, and turned away from his lover. Evan swore he glimpsed tears in his sad blue eyes as he turned away, and it pained him to see his lover in agony.

It wasn't that he didn't know what he was going through. He knew that Jonathan was lonely. He knew that he was displaced and that he was upset at that fact. He knew he had made a mistake in taking Jonathan away from home, and he knew that Jonathan was far from used to his new home. He knew that he was upset at his lack of social life and understanding of the new place he found himself in, and he knew that simply whiling his time away with video games and other activities wasn't quite going to cut it or solve his problems. He knew exactly what he was going through, and he knew how Jonathan felt. Yet, there was very little that he could do to solve it. He had two choices, both of which would break them. He could bring the wild flower back home and leave him be, in hopes that the wild flower would continue its life without any further interference, or he could insist that the wild flower make a new home out of where he was, in hopes that the wild flower would settle into his new life without any further struggles.

But he couldn't. And so he let the issue be, torn between leaving his lover and forcing his lover to comply. He knew where he had went wrong – he had picked the wild flower.

And one day, their home was empty. There was no wild flower, no lover, no Jonathan. He had a final call from Jonathan, begging for Evan to go see him at the train station one final time before he left. It was there at the train station that he watched the wild flower reel itself into its ultimate destruction, it was there that he watched his own lover die.

He was there on the platform, facing the tracks. Evan called out to him, pleading him to come back. Jonathan turned back, a look of finality in his wet blue eyes, and as a tear slipped out and down his cheeks, the rattling that was once distant grew louder and louder. He smiled a forlorn smile, and simply said –

"Goodbye, my love."

In an instant, as the rattling became deafening, Jonathan jumped onto the tracks just as a train passed in front of him, and what was blue became crimson red, red with the blood of Evan's lover. Instinctively, his hand shot up to his mouth, queasiness growing steadily within him and tears burning in his eyes as he realized what had happened. He had plucked the wild flower, and now it was gone.


End file.
